Beyond Fearless Read online

  He was cursing. Shouting a man’s name. Asking his goddess to kill the fucker.

  She had heard him angry before. She had heard him drunk on island rum. But she had never heard him like this, and she shrank back—away from the front of the shed and into the shadows, lest he burst out and see her. And direct his wrath toward her.

  He sounded desperate and dangerous. Out of control.

  Footsteps came along the alley. A man, walking fast. And now she was trapped. She’d done it to herself by sneaking down here.

  Praying that she wouldn’t be discovered, she pressed back into the greenery at the side of the yard. If Raoul found her here, would he kill her?

  She hated to think he’d turn on her, but she’d given up any illusions she possessed about the man.

  ZACH had already stripped to the waist.

  Anna dragged in a breath and let it out. I need to see what I’m doing. Take off your shorts.

  He turned his head toward her, giving her a long look. A flurry of heartbeats passed, and she knew that he was reluctant to comply.

  I need to see you, she repeated.

  He answered with a tight nod, then he reached for the snap at the top of his shorts. She saw his hands weren’t quite steady as he opened the snap, then pulled down his zipper. Once he had started, he moved quickly, awkwardly pulling down the shorts, lifting his hips so he could drag the garment down his legs and toss it onto the floor.

  In seconds, he lay against the cushions, naked and vulnerable. He was fully aroused, his penis hard and firm and sticking straight up in the air.

  She caught her breath and couldn’t stop herself from saying, Now you know how I felt.

  Yeah. Needy.

  His aroused body and the look on his face made her want to reach him. And suddenly, without understanding how she had accomplished it, she knew she had made contact.

  Her hands were pressed against the fabric of the sofa, yet at the same time, she felt her fingers press against Zach’s flat stomach.

  And she knew it was no illusion generated by wishful thinking. Under her hand, she felt the muscles jump. And she heard him call out to her.

  “Anna!”

  “Right here,” she whispered. Sensing power gather inside her, she slid her phantom hand lower, combing her fingers through the thatch of dark hair below his belly, then working her way toward the base of his penis.

  He made a strangled exclamation as she reached her goal, then stroked one finger up the length of the hardened flesh, following the ridge of a vein.

  She felt a spurt of heat inside her own body, heat coming from him.

  His exclamation of gratitude rang in the darkened room and echoed in her mind.

  With a sense of wonder, she trailed her invisible fingers up and down his length, hearing his breath accelerate.

  She knew it felt good, but she knew it wasn’t enough. Again she focused on what she needed to do, and somehow she was able to close her hand around his cock and squeeze him.

  He felt full and so hard that it was like grasping tempered steel covered with velvet.

  He didn’t speak again. He didn’t move. Yet she sensed the tension radiating from him.

  It was wonderful to touch him like that. Wonderful to feel him harden even further under her phantom touch.

  She clasped him more tightly, playing with him, experimenting to see what he liked best. As she moved her hand up and down, faster and faster, she felt his whole body go rigid.

  Letting his reactions guide her, she increased the speed and pressure.

  His hips surged upward off the sofa cushions, punctuated by groans and gasps.

  The sight of him, the feel of his penis in her fist, brought heat blasting through her. Her breathing came hard and fast—from arousal and from the effort she was expending.

  But she pushed her own needs to the background and kept her focus on him, driving him toward orgasm.

  His eyes focused on her face. And she clenched her teeth, awed by her view of him and the pleasure she saw on his features.

  She ached to go to him. But she knew she had to see this through, in the way that he had showed her.

  Then, from where she stood, she felt his body jerk, heard him call her name as climax rocked him.

  His breath sawed in and out, and so did hers.

  “I can’t…stand here anymore.”

  He held out his arm, and she crossed the space between them, flinging her body onto the couch as he cradled her against his length.

  “I did it,” she whispered.

  “Oh yeah.”

  He grinned at her, and she grinned back.

  “So, do I get to have you make love with me? I mean, the real way.”

  They settled down together on the couch, and he stroked his fingers over her arm.

  “I think we can honor your request—if you give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning his head to nuzzle his lips against her neck.

  But she had picked up some disturbing stray thoughts from his mind, and she turned to look at him.

  “You’re planning to put me through hell again,” she murmured.

  He laughed softly. “I prefer to think of it as training, but not until we both have some fun.”

  A shout from outside the shrine made Raoul start.

  Someone was calling his name.

  He stood up and flexed his legs. His knees ached from kneeling before the altar. And all for nothing. He’d been able to see Anna and the man, at least in some fashion. He knew what the hell they were doing.

  Making each other hot. Playing sex games.

  Damn the man for thinking up something so inventive!

  Raoul ached to break the connection between Anna and the man, but he couldn’t do it. Not from here. They were too far away, and he needed to figure out where they were.

  “Raoul!”

  “Just a moment.” He stepped out of the shed and carefully closed the door behind him.

  Etienne was standing in the courtyard between the shed and the back of the shop, his eyes wild.

  “Where is she?”

  “Anna?”

  “Of course Anna. Who else? She was late for work, and I sent around to her hotel. But she wasn’t there. What have you done with her?”

  Raoul’s anger flared. “I haven’t done nothin’.”

  “She’s supposed to be at the club. But she’s gone. What the hell am I gonna do?”

  “Some men took her.”

  “Son of a bitch! And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Calm down. I’ve been trying to locate her.”

  Etienne looked like he wanted to punch someone out. “The club is full. The audience is waiting for her first show. She’s a big hit.”

  “Tell them she’s sick.”

  Etienne swore again. “I already did that—to stall them.”

  “We’ll she’s not coming back tonight,” Raoul said.

  “Blood fire! People will think I don’t deliver what I promise.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “It don’t matter why she’s not there. They’ll blame me. Did you hide her away?”

  “Not me. Like I said, some other men took her. If I can find her, I will.”

  “With your…powers?”

  Raoul kept his face from reflecting his inner doubts. “Yes. But she’s not on the island.”

  “Where is she? What did they want with her?”

  Raoul heaved in a breath and let it out. “They wanted to kill her.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit,” Raoul repeated. “But she got away from them. She and the guy with her.”

  “Who?”

  “A man who has a boat in the harbor.”

  “You know him?”

  “Not face to face. I saw him in a vision.”

  Etienne waited a beat before saying, “So they left by boat?”

  Raoul waved an impatient hand. “No. By plane. But it went down in the water.”

  Etienne sucked in a strangled breat
h.

  “The hot steppas who had them were in a raft. The other guy—Zach—swam over and knifed the bottom. Anna’s okay,” Raoul went on quickly. “She and the stateside guy swam to shore.”

  “This is true?”

  “You think I could make it up?”

  Etienne scowled. “You shoulda told me soon as you knew.”

  Raoul didn’t explain that he’d forgotten all about the club owner’s problems. Instead, he said smoothly, “I was praying to Ibena. And trying to find them.” He omitted any mention of what else he’d been trying to do. “You seen the guy—Zach?”

  “I think I know who he is. He got in trouble wit Pagor.”

  “Good. Maybe that will help us.”

  “Help us! How?” Etienne looked like he wanted to lunge across the space between them. But he knew his place, and he wisely stayed where he was.

  “Maybe Pagor will fuck him up.” He closed his eyes. “I can see where they are, but I don’t know the place. It’s a grand white house—with some storm damage.”

  “Abandoned?”

  “Yeah. I tell you more about the house.” He paused and collected his thoughts. “It’s very modern—a rich guy’s pad. Maybe on a private island. It’s got sliding glass doors leading onto a patio. One of them is broke. The ground level has tile floors and a big fireplace. It’s got a two story ceiling in the big room. The floor in the hall upstairs is broke. The garden’s a mess.”

  Etienne waited impatiently. “What am I supposed to do with all that information?”

  “Go aroun’ town. To the brothers who work for rich foreigners. See if you can find someone who knows the place.”

  “That’s not enough to tell them.”

  Raoul gave him a fierce look. “There’s a pier. And a waterfall.”

  Etienne sighed.

  “Give it a shot,” Raoul growled, “because I think Anna and the guy are stuck there. We can rescue them and get her back.”

  “But maybe not for days.”

  “It’s better than nothing.”

  Etienne grunted in protest, but he didn’t really have any options.

  “Someone in town surely worked there. Or carried stuff from the island to the house. If we can find out who, we can go there, kill him, and pick her up.”

  Etienne blinked. “Kill him?”

  “He think she belong to him. But she’s mine!”

  Etienne’s face paled. “I didn’t sign up for murder.”

  “I didn’t mean you personally.”

  Raoul walked around his friend and into the back of the shop. “I’ve been praying since I found out she was gone, and I’ve got blood on my shirt—from the chickens. I have to change before I go out.”

  He strode to the closet where he kept several of the shirts that Nadine had ironed for him and brought over from the house. She hadn’t been much good at ironing or cooking when she’d first come to live with him, but she’d responded to his gentle suggestions.

  Now she would make some guy a good wife. But not him. He knew the wife he wanted.

  “For a good cause, murder isn’t much different from sacrificing a chicken,” he said in a soft voice.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  NADINE COWERED IN the bushes with her heart pounding, afraid to move until Raoul and his friend had walked through the yard and into the art gallery.

  When the door closed, she let out the breath she was holding, then rushed back into the alley and headed for home.

  Home.

  That was a house owned by Raoul.

  Now what the hell was she supposed to do? Go back there and pretend she hadn’t been here? Or maybe she should make a break for it. Because she wasn’t that good an actress. When Raoul saw her face, he’d know something was wrong. Because she’d heard him talking about murder.

  Not just of chickens. The murder of a man.

  If he could kill some guy he’d never met, what would he do to her when he got angry?

  It sounded like she’d better start thinking about her options. Like, was there a quick way to get the hell out of Dodge?

  She had more than enough bread for a plane ticket, but Raoul had spies at the airport. If she tried to buy a ticket, he’d know about it. And nobody on the island would hide her from him. She was stuck.

  As she stood in the dark, trying to figure out what to do, an idea came sneaking into her mind.

  That priest—Joseph Hondino. He’d said he would help her. Maybe in exchange for some information, he’d help her get away.

  Or was it better to go down to the docks and see if any new boats had come in? Maybe she could pay someone to take her to Jamaica. Even that was risky. But she was thinking that she’d better chance it.

  She clenched her hands into fists, trying to decide which way to jump.

  ZACH woke with a feeling of well-being, which he understood was strange, since he knew the instant he opened his eyes that he and Anna were stranded on a deserted island somewhere in the Caribbean.

  But her presence next to him on the makeshift bed made all the difference. She was warm and totally relaxed, her posture telling him of her utter trust in him.

  That gave him a small twinge. She trusted him. But he couldn’t let go of the nagging doubt about the other guy who kept barging into their relationship.

  If she didn’t want him there, would he really be able to interfere?

  He hated himself for asking the question. But he’d learned not to trust easily. Not after his own brother had made his life hell for years. Craig had been jealous of him from the time he was born. At least the way his mother told it. And maybe he’d even caused some dangerous accidents when Zach had been just a toddler.

  Zach couldn’t prove the early incidents. But he sure recalled being pushed off an outcropping of rocks.

  And he remembered his father’s reaction. Dad had called him clumsy. And Craig had walked away with a smirk.

  Shoving the past from his mind, he turned his head just enough so that he could see Anna’s face. She was still sleeping, with her lips slightly parted and her lashes very dark against her pale skin.

  They’d been through a terrible ordeal the day before—then celebrated with hours of lovemaking. He knew she needed to rest, and he lay very still, trying not to wake her.

  After they’d made love, they’d talked—not out loud, but in their minds. He now knew more about her than about any living human being. And she knew as much about him.

  Maybe to prove how much she trusted him not to make fun of her, she’d shared some of her worst memories.

  Like the terrible embarrassment when she’d gotten her first period in the middle of gym class.

  And he’d let her see the awkward scene when he’d seduced a girl in his college class because he was embarrassed to still be a virgin.

  Then she’d told him how much she hated riding the school bus, wondering who would sit next to her.

  As he kept his gaze on her, he saw that her eyes were moving back and forth under her lids.

  Rapid eye movements. He knew what that meant. She was dreaming.

  About what?

  And could he join her in that dream? A couple of days ago, the thought would have been incomprehensible. But the first time he’d met her was in a kind of waking dream. And after he’d made contact with her, they’d reached toward each other in ways that a normal person would never have thought of—or even believed possible.

  Still, there were avenues they hadn’t explored. And things they hadn’t done to strengthen the connection between them.

  What if he joined her in her dream? Would that cement their relationship more tightly?

  Or was he looking for excuses to spy on her?

  He didn’t like the image of himself as a man who had to control his lover’s actions and her thoughts. But at the same time, he wanted to know about the other man. The man she said was named Raoul San Donato.

  Would San Donato try to reach her in her dreams? Or would Anna’s subconscious reach
out to him?

  Or maybe she couldn’t control what she was dreaming. She could be having a nightmare. And if so, he could change the equation.

  Once again he questioned his own motives. But that wasn’t going to stop him. He wanted to know where her subconscious had taken her. And he was going to find out—if he could.

  Physical contact had been the door to mental intimacy between them. As they lay on the bed she’d made from the sofas, he was snuggled up against her, her hip and shoulder wedged against his—very intimate physical contact. The right kind of contact to get into her mind.

  He’d done it many times now when they were both awake and she was reaching for him at the same time. He hadn’t tried it while she was sleeping.

  Should he close his eyes to concentrate? Or should he watch her face because that was yet another kind of bridge to her spirit?

  He opted for the latter, his fingers pressing against her hip as he reached toward her sleeping thoughts, not even sure what he was doing. Or if she would stay sleeping while he tried to probe her mind.

  Hoping he wouldn’t wake her, he strove for contact on the very deepest level. He couldn’t explain the process he was using—even to himself. But he figured he was on the right track when the room around him went away, much like when he’d first been standing on the street in front of the poster of Magic Anna.

  Lord, that seemed like a long time ago.

  He hadn’t even met her in person then. But they had held each other and kissed for the first time in that dream.

  This time was different. He could still see her lying next to him on the couch.

  Then the image faded, leaving him in a twilight place with no sound and no sense of touch. He knew his hand was still pressing against her hip, but suddenly he couldn’t feel her warm skin. And then he couldn’t even see her—or anything else.

  Before panic could bloom, everything changed again. In the space of a heartbeat, he stepped through a translucent curtain onto the sea grass at the edge of a beach. Very much like the beach where they’d washed up yesterday.

  The sun was shining in a brilliant blue sky. A gentle breeze blew off the water. And the waves broke gently on the wet sand, each one with a curl of foam where it receded.